Tension
by heartspalmtrees
Summary: Noun: the state of being stretched tight. Synonyms: tightness, tautness, rigidity.
1. Chapter 1: The Spa

I do not own Scandal or any of its characters.

**ten·sion  
**_noun_

**the state of being stretched tight.  
****synonyms:tightness, tautness, rigidity**

**mental or emotional strain.  
****synonyms: strain, stress, pressure**

"I'm so sorry," Olivia said, rushing into the lobby of the spa, "my meeting ran really late. I'm Olivia Pope. I have a 7pm appointment." Fitz walked around from behind the counter and replied with a smile, "No problem. I'm Fitzgerald Grant, one of Cecilia's employees. I know she keeps the spa open late for your appointments every other week, but tonight she had an emergency with her daughter, so I'll be taking care of you."

Olivia narrowed her eyes, giving him a once-over. She hadn't seen him here before, but her biweekly massages had become a routine and she hated to go without this week. She liked that he was well-built, strong, and knew that his hands would give her aching body the relief she was looking for. Her gaze flitted from his blue-grey eyes, down to broad shoulders, down a t-shirt that showed off his well-defined abs, and she felt a different kind of tension begin to brew.

"I don't want to keep you, I can always reschedule," she replied. "Nonsense," he said. "It's just us here and I didn't have plans anyway. I'm all yours."

Fitz took in the woman before him and assumed she was flustered from being late. He wanted to put her at ease - coming to a spa was supposed to be relaxing for people. Taking her in from the top of her curls to the bottom of her spiked heels, she seemed capable and so professional - he wondered what it would sound like if she moaned under his touch. Fitz realized he needed to cut the sexual tension, and quickly. "Follow me," he said.

Olivia followed Fitz to a darkened room lit with candles and low lighting. She was trying to concentrate on the back of his head instead of his ass, and all she could think about was her fingers clenching those curls as he feasted on her.

"Anything special you want to concentrate on today? Cecilia mentioned you kill your feet and back with high heels and she would specifically work on those areas," said Fitz with a smile.

His comment snapped her back to reality and she let out a laugh that was much louder than his comment called for, just happy to have some sort of release, "It's true," Olivia replied. "They're an indulgence, my one vice. Well, them and really great massages."

Fitz gave instructions to remove her clothing, leaving on anything she felt necessary to be comfortable. She slipped under the cool sheet, face-down, onto the heated bed. After a few moments, Fitz knocked and entered the room.

"Are you all set? How would you like me to do it?" he asked. "Hard, light?"

"Hard," she replied. "I like a lot of pressure." His gaze flicked over her covered form, taking in her round bottom, the dip at her waist, and neck that begged to be bitten and replied, "I aim to please."

It had been a while since he'd given a massage - he mostly did more office work. As he warmed the oil and moved around the room, it occurred to him that although he had massaged attractive women, none had quite the appeal of the beauty laying before him. "Breathe, Fitz, breathe," he chanted to himself and his cock. "She's a client."

He pulled down the sheet, exposing her back to him. "Beautiful," he thought. He poured the oil into his hands, rubbed them together to create warmth, and laid his hands on her back.

At first contact, a moan escaped her lips. Embarrassed, she tried to cover it by clearing her throat. But as his hands moved from her neck down her back, and below her waist, she couldn't help imagine how it would feel to have his hands move even lower, to the part of her that really ached.

"This okay?" he asked, his voice a deep baritone and his hands gliding over her taut muscles, kneading, pulling, stretching her. "Mhm hm," she said. As he moved over and around her, she was surrounded by him, his scent. She was so _aware_ of him, every movement he made, every place he touched her. It had been a while since she'd been with a man, and this one was making her tense in all the wrong, well right, places. "Breathe, Olivia, breathe," she told herself.

Though the magic of his hands, the warmth of the bed, and the soothing music were meant to calm and relax, they did anything but to Olivia. Minutes ticked by, she could feel herself growing wet from the mere touch of this man.

Fitz finished her back, recovered her form, and asked her to turn over. He moved into her left leg out from under the sheet. She wasn't wearing any panties, and as he moved to tuck the sheet between her thighs for modesty, his fingers brushed wetness. A small gasp and moan from her let him know she felt it. He looked up to see her eyes were open, watching him. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to -"

"Stop," Olivia said, as her eyes moved from meeting his to roam down his body and see his cock, rock-hard since the moment he touched her. "You can touch me, again, if you want," the backs of her fingers whispering over the bulge in his pants.

Fitz looked at her, at this gorgeous creature lying on the bed before him, and all professional thoughts went out the window. He slowly pulled the sheet off of her, revealing dark pert nipples, and the wetness between her thighs glistening in the low light. She watched him as he unconsciously licked his lips as the rest of her body was revealed to him.

She spread her legs a bit further apart, and his gaze went right to the place that was throbbing for him, her hips bucking slightly. His palm grazed over her, as he looked back at her. Olivia had her eyes closed and slight smile on her face. As he applied more pressure, her breathing became more erratic, slight moans coming from her lips.

Fitz took her lower lips between his fingers, massaging each without ever touching her where she wanted him to most. As he massaged, the tension in her body grew. She wanted him to make her come, to make her forget all her worries, her work, her crazy family...all of it.

Moving from her outer lips to the inner, Fitz kept massaging, finally rubbing his thumb from just inside her opening to her clit. She bucked at the contact, Fitz moving one wet hand around her thigh to press down on her pelvis, locking her in place.

"I'm going to taste you," he said, spreading her thighs even wider as he lowered his head between them. Licking her from the bottom to the top of her clit, her hips began to move again on their own, as he pushed his tongue inside her while his thumb rubbed small circles on her clit.

"I want...I want...argh...I need…" she stuttered. "Tell me what you want, Olivia," Fitz said as he took her bud between his teeth. "You," she sobbed, hips thrashing, "I want you inside me. Make me come."

As Fitz stood up and began to remove his clothing, Olivia opened her eyes. She turned on the table, resuming her original position on her stomach, legs closed, ass in the air.

Fitz chuckled, "You want me to take you from behind? Naughty girl," he said. As he slid into her, his smile stopped, replaced by a low moan. "Fuck," he said. "You're so tight."

He began to move, watching his cock disappear into her. He picked up the pace, going harder, deeper, as Olivia began to buck up against him resulting in his cock hitting her spot. He leaned over her, one hand intertwining with hers and the other grabbing her neck to face him for a searing kiss. Tongues dancing, mouths open, a sloppy kiss that mimicked their joining below.

Her muscles began to clench around him, and as he grabbed her hips and disappeared all the way into her, "Come for me, Olivia," he growled. And she did, releasing all the tension that started the minute she laid eyes on him. He finished closely behind her, spilling his seed into her. He laid down, placing gentle kisses on her back, leaving a bite mark on her neck.

He gave her some time to compose herself, leaving a warm washcloth on the counter. As she opened the door, she gave him a small smile. "I've never - " he began, as she put a hand on his arm to stop him. "It was just what I needed," she said as she pulled her wallet from her handbag as they walked to the lobby. "Do you charge the same as Cecilia?"

He looked at her, stunned at the detached transaction she was trying to make, and said "No, there won't be a charge. This one's on the house."

She looked perplexed for a minute, and unwilling to say goodbye as they moved to the front door, she said, "if you aren't going to charge me, that means I'm not a client, right? So if we wanted to do this again…?"

He smiled, as he locked the door to the spa behind them, his blue-grey eyes glittering, "I'll have to take you on a date first. But I'm warning you I don't sleep with women on the first date."

"Then it's a good thing it won't be our first date," she laughed as they rounded the corner and came upon two men in suits. "Good evening Mr. President, Mrs. Grant," Hal said. "Hi Hal," said Olivia with a smile as she laced her fingers with her husband's.

Fitz tossed the keys to second man, saying "Tom, please thank your sister for us...it was nice to be able to escape and relax. She has a gorgeous spa," as he lead Olivia by the hand out the door and into the limo waiting to take them home.


	2. Chapter 2: The Limo

I do not own Scandal or any of its characters.

**ten·sion  
**_noun_

**the state of being stretched tight.  
****synonyms:tightness, tautness, rigidity**

**mental or emotional strain.  
****synonyms: strain, stress, pressure**

It wasn't unheard of for the President of the free world to be at a gentleman's club. Since 1789, presidents had been politicking in leather club chairs surrounded by smoke and crystal tumblers of scotch. Republican President Fitzgerald Grant was a keeper of tradition.

Tonight he entered the three-story brick mansion, older than the country he ran, with the purposeful stride of a commander-in-chief. The First Lady, Olivia, had been out of the country for two weeks abroad, playing peacekeeper and charmer. As a result, the President was nearly unbearable to be around. He vibrated with the tension that seemed to be coursing through him, craving a solace and release that only the First Lady could provide.

The staccato of three sets of heels clicked down the hallway, and a sharp turn left his two secret service agents at the doorway as Fitz entered the library. Acknowledging the men at the table left Fitz with a distaste in his mouth that wouldn't disappear, even with smooth burning of the scotch. The men at the table knew the First Lady was out of the country and knew what that meant for the President's demeanor. They usually avoided meeting when she was out of town, as the full Grant wrath was likely to appear, but decisions had to be made so the meeting was called.

* * *

As Fitz prepared to leave, Senator Arnold walked out with him, saying "President Grant, I know how difficult it can be to be away from your spouse for more than a few days. I've arranged to have a little something waiting in your car. Enjoy," he said with a wink and left. As Fitz slid into the car, he was surprised to see a woman sitting opposite him. She was gorgeous, all brown skin, big lips, and curves for days. "Mr. President," she said, low and seductive as the car began to move. "I'm Nora." She paused, looking him up and down from lowered lashes. "I understand you've been tense, really tense lately, since the First Lady has been gone. It's not good for the country for you to be so...how shall we say it…" as she bit her lip, "...frustrated," she nearly moaned.

Fitz was awestruck at the audacity of the woman opposite him, but her beauty soon turned his disbelief into something more tangible. His pants seemed to become tighter as he watched her sensually lick her lips, and he managed to sputter out, "I'm married. This can't happen." She moved to sit to his left, one hand going behind his head, fingers caressing the soft hair as his neck, the other placed over the bulge in his trousers. "I think it can happen. Your hard cock in my hand thinks it can, too," she said into his ear as she licked the rim. "You're so tense, let me relax you," as her hand continued to stroke him.

Breath coming too fast, his head spinning, Fitz was having a hard time keeping his control. And then she moved away from him, removing the trench she was wearing revealing nothing but a white thong underneath. She sat on his lap, facing away from him, the tight curves of her ass against his cock, her head against his shoulder. She began to move, gyrate in small circles, grinding herself against him. She took his hands and moved them to her breasts, squeezing them causing them both to moan. He was gone. Two weeks was too long and this gorgeous creature in front of him offered him the release and relief he needed. He put his hands on her hips and began to thrust with her.

"No, no no," she said, grabbing his hands with hers removing them from her hips, and turning to kneel between his legs. "No moving. Just sit here and help me get these off." As she undid his buckle, he removed his suit jacket. They stared at one another, the tension in the car rising, as together they removed the remainder of his clothing.

His cock, hard and nearly purple begged for her attention. He couldn't keep from looking at her plump lips wondering if she would, just even for a second, put them where he wanted them. She smiled up at him, whispering, "not yet," knowing what he was thinking. She sucked her thumb into her mouth, leaving a trail of spit as she rubbed her thumb over the head of his cock. Fitz let out a groan, wanting more from her than this teasing, as his head fell back and eyes slammed shut.

"Mr. President, do you want to watch while I make you come?" she asked. His head came down and eyes snapped back open, darkening at her words. Unable to speak, he nodded and watched as she took her fingers, dipping them inside herself, coating them in her juices. She pulled them out and wrapped them around his shaft. A half groan/half yell came from deep in his chest, the end to the torturous weeks spent without release seeming so near.

As she fisted him up and down with her wet fingers, her other hand made its way back to her pussy to repeat the motion. Palming his sack, running her thumb down the vein in his cock, he watched as she licked her lips, putting them to the head and sucking gently, lapping up the moisture that pooled.

His hands flew into her hair, as his head rested on the seatback and her warm, wet mouth engulfed him. She varied her rhythm with small licks and kisses mixed with frantic sucking and bobbing, the combination of her juices and saliva creating a warm, humid heaven. Her mouth felt good, _ohsogoodrightthere_, but when he began to thrust in her mouth, she pulled away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, small smile on her swollen lips.

She turned around and resumed her position on his lap, facing away from him. His hands were placed back on her breasts, rolling dark nipples between his thumb and forefinger. "Please," he said, as his cock slid between her thighs, her wetness coating them both. She turned her head, sucking his neck, as her hips slowed, torturing him even further. "I have to touch you," he said, "you're so fucking wet, I have to touch you." His hands traveled south, until they were at the sides of her dripping thong. He pulled the scrap of silk, until it was nearly painful against her clit. "Oh god," she exclaimed, as she bucked between the taut fabric and his erection behind her.

He pulled her panties down her legs, as he moved her legs on either side of him. As the cool air hit her pussy, she gasped, but soon his hands replaced the material that had been so pleasurably, painfully pulled against her moments before. Fingers moved against her clit, delving into her as she rocked back against him. He sucked on her neck, like she had sucked on his minutes before, leaving a mark. "So good, so fucking good," he mumbled against her.

Her goal tonight had been about him, to give him release, and here the leader of the free world had her spread-eagle in the Presidential limo, fingers inside and stroking around her, as he brought her relief. As her walls clamped around him, he angled her so his cock could slip inside. Her aftershocks nearly brought him to finish, but it had been two weeks since he'd been inside a woman, and he wasn't about to waste the opportunity.

He moved her hips, not giving her the opportunity to adjust to him, as he thrust into her. She leaned forward, hands on his knees, as his gaze slipped down to her ass, bouncing up and down on his cock. His look primal, he drove into her again and again. "Faster, harder, more more more," she screamed, as he groaned behind her and he gasped "Livvie" as he came hard inside her.

* * *

His clothing back on, her trench belted, they sat side-by-side in the limo as the sights of DC flashed by outside the windows. "How did you get back to early?" he asked, kissing the top of her head, his arm around her resting on the curve of her ass. "I missed my husband," she replied, "and a little bird may have told me that he was being pretty difficult. I thought I'd surprise you," she said with a soft kiss to his jaw.

She smiled as her gaze fell to a gift bag on the opposite seat. "What's that?" she asked, grabbing the bag for him to open." Fitz opened the gift and began laughing, "Senator Arnold mentioned leaving something in the car to help me get a little relief," as he showed her the tiny Zen gardening kit. He pulled out a small, delicate rake the size of a finger that went with the sand. "I think we can come up with some ways to put this to good use," he said and winked, as she settled back into his arms for the rest of the ride home.


	3. Chapter 3: Lap Dance

**AN: Each of these chapters is meant as a stand-alone, one-shot. AU.**

I do not own Scandal or any of its characters.

ten·sion  
_noun_

the state of being stretched tight.  
synonyms:tightness, tautness, rigidity

mental or emotional strain.  
synonyms: strain, stress, pressure

* * *

Fitz was rock hard.

Her hips were now moving in slow circles, a contrast to the rough grinding of a few moments before. Her slow movements brought some relief to his aching cock, but soon another type of pain took over.

He needed her to move. He needed her to pull off his jeans and remove her tiny g-string and allow him to bury himself inside her warmth. But she wouldn't. Not yet anyway.

Her back was pressed against his front as he sat in the chair. Her quick instructions at the start had him keeping his hands to his side. This was her show. Her legs were on either side of his as she leaned forward, allowing him to look down and watch as her plump ass in her flimsy thong rotated on him.

_Fuck she's going to make me cum in my jeans again._

Abruptly she stood up, turning around, and he could see her puckered nipples on the tips of her breasts. _This turns her on_, he thought.

A smirk settled on his face, knowing he hadn't even touched her and she was probably soaking her pretty panties. He wanted that wet warmth around his cock, on his face, anywhere and any how she would feed him. He wanted to feast.

She kneeled before him, spreading his legs to give her access to his cock, straining hard against the material of his jeans.

She looked up at him, fingers ghosting over the huge outline and she ducked her head and nuzzled him there. Her nose, her lips, moving over him, pantomiming what she would do if he were in her mouth.

Her body began to move up his, her breasts brushing several times against his cock. His head went back against the chair. He ached to hold her breasts, fingers pinching and pulled at her peaked nipples, tongue circling until it found its home, suckling from her.

_In the best way, she'll be the death of me._

* * *

Olivia was aching. Her soaked g-string was sticking to her body, her arousal evident.

_Fuck he's going to make me cum and he hasn't even touched me._

She rubbed her breasts up his body, his tight t-shirt allowing her to feel more of him.

_Thank god he thinks this is his shirt size. _

As her breasts reached his face, she allowed him a moment to bury his head there, before pulling back. Keeping his legs spread, she turned around, settling her ass on top of his hardness. His moans and twitching hands told her he wouldn't last long. But she wanted him to. She lived for these moments – turning him on, feeling connecting to him, knowing that she was making him sweat and pulse with need. For her.

She began to move again, her hips moving to the beat of the music. Her upper body fell back against his, her head resting on his shoulder. She turned her face into his neck as her hips picked up speed.

He was babbling now, moaning like they were actually having sex, instead of her grinding her ass on his cock, hidden beneath a layer of jeans and boxer briefs.

"Fuck, you are gonna make me cum, pretty girl," he said.

She smiled then, and thinking he'd been a good boy, moved his hands to her hips. She sat up and looked back at him, a look of surprise on his face. His fingers gripped her hips, his thumbs caressing what he could reach of her ass.

"Show me what you want," she said.

* * *

He began to move her. He was President of the fucking United States and this woman in front of him, Olivia, held all the power.

He was hers. She owned him. She was all he could think about. And right now all he could think about was fucking her, making love to her, having babies with her, and seeing his cum on her lips.

He wanted more. He wanted to see her come undone in his arms. He turned her around, bringing his legs together and putting hers around his waist. He sat up, hugging her to him, as her hips moved and he nuzzled her collarbone.

They found a rhythm that soon had them both panting. She was soaking the front of his jeans. Her flimsy thong nestled within her swollen lips, was pulling against her clit, providing a delicious friction.

_Faster._

_Harder._

_More._

_Fuck yes._

They were both speaking single words, panting between grunts and moans, and trying to catch their breath, as they rode one another, seeking relief that only the other could provide. Their questing hips straining under the tension so thick.

He was fucking her. He didn't care that he wasn't inside her, he was making her feel so good, the way her head was thrown back and the scent of her arousal in the air. He bucked up against her, his cock and his heart seeking its home in her.

"I'm gonna…oh, uh…I'm gonna cum…" she panted in his year.

"Let go Olivia," he said. "I've got you."

Watching her fall apart in his arms was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Her body went stiff, her face frozen as she looked into his eyes, and then fell forward, her scream buried by the biting of his neck.

_Ohgodohgodohgodohgod._

His cock exploded, thick cum covering his boxer briefs, as he held onto her hips and pounded erratically against her.

_Fuck, he loved this woman._

She stood up, peeling off her stained panties as she grabbed a robe. She looked at him, as the mess they'd both made.

"I'm so sor-" she started.

"Stop," he said.

She started giggling then, until she was laughing so hard that tears were forming. He stood up, chuckling as he took her in his arms.

She stiffened.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

He enveloped her in his arms, kissing the top of her head.

"Next Tuesday? Same time?" he said, as Tony the bouncer signaled from the corner that time was up.

"Sure. I'm on the schedule, that's fine, see you then" she said as she moved away from him, and followed Tony out of the room.

His secret service agents led him out the back door, into the waiting car. He thought about the headlines if the press ever got wind of what he did every Tuesday at The Pussycat Club. But he didn't care. He was in love with a stripper.


End file.
